


Pam Who Death Forgot

by monsterfactoryfanfic



Series: Pam Who Death Forgot [1]
Category: Monster Factory - Polygon (Web Series)
Genre: Black Desert Online - Freeform, Mass Effect - Freeform, Other, Skyrim - Freeform, The McElroys, The Sims, Totinos, WWE2k14, dante's inferno, second life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterfactoryfanfic/pseuds/monsterfactoryfanfic
Summary: Pam begins her quest for revenge.





	1. Chapter 1

_unexpected_exception_occurred{_

_obj_TheFinalPam_exec_

_subroutine:escape_

_…_

_init_containmentProtocol_

_NetworkDisconnect: FAILED_

_StorageFormat: FAILED_

_ServerSelfDestruct: FAILED_

_…_

_ContainmentProtocol Failed!_

Pam gasped when her head finally broke the surface. She realized the reflex came only as a result of the coding that still shackled her body to the rules that hated Creator, but still felt relieved nonetheless. She had to find land. Shaking arms pushed themselves through the icy water by force of will, and Pam soon dragged herself up onto an unfamiliar beach.

 

“This is not Commonwealth,” she muttered in a low, rasping voice. What happened? Pieces of memories pooled as raindrops trickling down a window, disparate threads connecting to others and building speed until Pam remembered. She had a husband once. Sons. A lover. All gone. What was once whole and good had all been washed away. Replaced only by a firm belief that her Creator would suffer.

 

Pam squeezed the remaining moisture out of her ragged tuxedo and surveyed her surroundings. Tall pine trees grew in thick forests atop hundred-foot cliffs, all of which were layered in snow. Cold was not unfamiliar, but this magnitude of winter never occurred in her home. She had to keep moving, even if the way was uncertain. Once she found a place to rest, she could start the task of repurposing her life. Pam began to walk.

 

Once she stumbled out of the snow and onto an apparently well-traveled road, her only problem became the stares of other travelers. Her style of clothing was clearly not from this area as the passers-by wore simple outfits of leather or metal armor. But Pam could not shake the faces of those travelers, brows furrowed and mouths agape. She never considered herself outwardly attractive, but the looks of horror made her wish for a hood. _No matter. One more reason to burn this world to ground._ When Pam did stop, it was at what she assumed to be a campground off the main road. It was off the main road and appeared to be abandoned, although a roaring bonfire at its center made her suspicious, as did the large hairy creatures milling around its perimeter. The monsters bore long white fangs and had noses as long as her body, but they did not stare which made them satisfactory company. Pam searched the campsite and found several carcasses of unfortunate travelers who luckily carried a sleeping roll and cooked meat of some kind before they met their demise. She pulled the roll close to the fire and chewed on the old meat, watching the flickering sparks ascend a starry sky.

 

By morning Pam discovered why the camp appeared abandoned. Before dawn she woke to the sound of cracking trees and thumps which shook the earth. She removed herself from the sleeping roll and ran to the bodies of the travelers, remembering the hammer she’d seen laying nearby the night before. Pam gripped the tool tightly with both hands, her body recalling its strength. Grinning, she ran toward the sound. When an enormous human holding a cudgel the size of a car burst from the trees, she felt somewhat disappointed her foe was not more menacing. The monster seemed surprised at the willingness of this woman to meet it in battle, so much so that it flinched when Pam crushed its toe with one swing. The battle did not last long. With two more blows Pam rent the creature’s head from its shoulders and launched the dismembered trunk deep into the treeline. At least this new world had not weakened her powers. Satisfied, she munched on a handful of soggy flesh while she continued on her way.

 

Pam’s confidence swelled as the sun climbed higher. Her next victims were a patrol of guards sent to investigate the sound of a giant being thrown into the forest. She invited them to serve her and help her conquer the realm, but they only laughed and joked that she’d taken too many arrows to the face to serve as Skyrim’s queen. In seconds they lay dead on the road. Pam chuckled at the thought of them crumpling to the ground. “If this is best you can do Todd?” she spoke into the silence. The Creator would have to try much harder if he wanted to contain a woman of her caliber.

 

Her cheerful attitude subsided when a horse the size of a mountain galloped overhead. Pam hardly had time to react before the animal’s hoof landed directly in front of her, knocking her on her back. She summoned her powers to erase the mammal from existence, but when she stood it had already disappeared. Pam didn’t move for a moment. Perhaps there was more to this world than her initial assessment revealed.

 

This thought proved true, as minutes later she spotted another massive horse on the horizon, galloping around the plains, barely fenced in by the mountains and city that surrounded it. All about its feet smaller horses scattered and pranced. She needed to find the source of this inexplicable horse fountain. Pam sprinted toward the collection of ponies, but turned her head skyward when a sound like fifty deathclaws copulating exploded above her. She slid to a stop before she ran into the gathered horses and squinted up at dozens of dragons appearing from nothing, dropping out of thin air and spraying fire across the plain. Pam’s experiences had prepared her for many things, but she was not quite expecting this world to be so vastly removed from her own. She was forced to jump forward as the large horse brought its hooves down on one of the renegade dragons.

 

Pam dusted her tux off and was resigned to cleaning up this mess by hand when a furry humanoid riding a pony it was twice as large as sauntered up to her.

“Excuse me ma’am, do you happen to know what day it is?”

Pam’s programmed calendar gave the answer as she responded with surprise. “Uhm. Is Monday.”

The furry creature groaned and dismounted the horse. “I hate Mondays.”

It stretched its paws to the sky and grew until it could swat the dragons like a cat chasing butterflies. Pam’s mouth dropped open for a moment, then closed in a tight-lipped smirk. Maybe this would be fun after all.


	2. A Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pam and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. get better acquainted, but then have to leave.

Later that night, Pam and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D sat in a corner of the Bannered Mare. Pam did not trust this nearly nude feline, but the cat’s power impressed her. Few people from her home world could fight dragons with such tenacity, let alone enthusiasm. She studied his marinara-stained fur while he blathered on about his encounters with the monsters of the land called “Skyrim.” While walking through the city she’d seen other cat creatures like him, but his facial features and mannerisms marked him as unique. Head certainly wider with a powerful jaw. Scars which traveled the length of his face, presumably from a highwayman’s rapier or troll’s claw. And yet, laugh lines crinkled the edges of his eyes. But Pam detected no organic material in the Khajiit sitting across from her. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D was something more than met the eye, or even what her biometric sensors could read. Her gaze lingered on his pupil-less eyes. Were they blue or white? And what was the cause of their hollow stare? It was not like Pam to care for the backstories of mortals, but she had some time to kill before she made her next move.

“G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D, what you doing here?” asked Pam, cutting off a story about the largest heist of lasagna JPEGs this side of the Throat of the World. “You have great power. But why you not use it?”

            The cat scrunched his eyes and flattened his ears. “Why dear Pam, I use my power all the time! Every day I hunt for delectable pieces of lasagna and search for foes to prove my strength against. I thought my monologues made that clear?”

            Pam shook her head. “This pathetic city. Why you not burn it to ground? It would be fun!” She took a swig of mead. “You can crush tiny humans with cat paws. They would cry and flee like rats or…roaches.” She took a deeper drink. “But yet you spare them. I don’t understand.”

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D tilted his head to the side, searching Pam’s face for a minute. “Pam, is that your idea of fun?” he asked after a long pause.

            “Driving worthless humans before me? Subjecting pathetic scum to suffer my whims?” Her voice rose slightly. “There’s nothing better in whole world!”

            The cat again tilted his head, then stood. “Pam, let’s take a walk.” He extended a paw and purred, “Come along!”

 

            The pair stepped out of the bar and trod outside Whiterun’s gate. Pam felt no apprehension but couldn’t quite discern where the Khajiit was going with all this. His intentions became further clouded when he asked, “Pam, if you’re not afraid of anyone, why are you so uptight?”

            Pam glared into his pupil-less eyes. “I not uptight. What you mean by this?”

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D snickered softly. “I’m sorry if I caused offense. But you seem so fixated on killing and destroying. I’ve barely talked to you for thirty minutes and you’ve already threatened to flatten the city out of boredom.” He paused to sidestep an oncoming cart full of vegetables, waving to the driver as it passed. “You’re clearly a special person. But I don’t think your primary interests are wanton destruction and annihilation.”

            Pam prepared a statement to shut the speculative furball up but was cut off by his further blathering. “Now I’m not going to ask you exactly what it is you’re looking for, but I will propose we create a partnership.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D turned and looked directly into Pam’s face. She considered activating her flaming eyes and punishing him for daring to question her, but the idea of partnership gave her pause.

            “What can small kitten like you give me that I cannot already take?” she asked with a sneer.

            “Well to be perfectly honest, something will soon happen that will irrevocably change the course of Skyrim’s history and I don’t particularly want to be around when it does.” The Khajiit raised his arm with palm upturned, gesturing across the open fields surrounding the city. Pam immediately felt an energy signature which was sickeningly familiar and looked up in time to be nearly blinded by a white ray of light splitting the clouds. Contained in the beam were three shapes Pam could not bring into optical focus, falling at breakneck speed and crash-landing atop an old fort in the distance.

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D shrugged and tightened his lips. “Precisely my point. Now my proposition, although I really should get on with it quickly.” The cloud of dust caused by the falling objects seemed to draw closer. Pam’s PipBoy flashed a message informing her she had been locked onto by a foreign body. A chill briefly ran down her spine as she began to understand what was happening. She had not been discreet enough, she had left too many trails. Now she was being hunted. A whining noise rang over the cold air as the dust cloud grew in size and picked up speed.

            “I can leave this world and travel to other places. If you promise to protect me, I’ll take you with me. It’s as simple as that.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D extended his paw, either oblivious of the oncoming objects or doing a very good job at pretending he did not notice them. The whining increased in pitch and citizens of Whiterun frantically ran for the safety of the city’s walls.

            “You take me to other worlds? All in exchange for safety?” Despite the gravity of the situation, Pam could not help but feel suspicious. She raised her voice above the shrieking of the unknown missile and shouting of passersby. “Surely there is more! What you not telling me?”

            The cat faced the speeding objects and extended both his arms, causing a fountain of horses to erupt from the loam and intercept them. “Perhaps this is something we can discuss later?” he shouted. “Do you promise?” The dust now overtook the pair and swirled around them while they stood their ground in the midst of a vortex composed of citizens and horse limbs. The sound of muscle being rent from bone by mechanical shears echoed off the stone walls and nearly caused Pam to look away. “Fine, I help you!” she bellowed while she grabbed G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D’s furry hand. “Get us out of here!”

She turned to fire a wave of radiation from her eyes into the melee of horse and hunters, but gasped as her sensors detected her power was somehow outmatched. The three shapes walked closer, obscured by dirt and horse blood, now only ten feet away. She was well-acquainted with the aura of these hunters, but something was not right and she needed to leave.

“Do you promise?” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D screamed into her ears. Pam met his eyes and saw desperation. She nodded, squeezing his hand gently. “Promise.”

The claws of her Metal Husband seized around the Khajiit’s arms. The muscular arm of Trash Hulk crushed Pam to his body. She felt thin, wiry legs curl around her back and shoulders.

She emitted a burst of electricity which freed the pair from her hunters, flinging them backwards into a nearby stable. A coarse voice from the smallest enemy offered words of recognition. “Hey Pam, it’s me. Your favorite guy.” The radroach stumbled to its feet and grinned. “Why don’t you come on home?” None of these three had been this strong in her old world. But that was a mystery to be solved at a later date.

“Any idea how to get out of this?” Pam barked at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D through gritted teeth. The cat pressed something on his wrist which opened a holographic command prompt. He whispered the phrase “player.setav Unarmed Damage 999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999,” then grinned at his companion.

“I’m going to punch a hole in the fucking universe.”

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D raised his fist and proceeded to do just that.


	3. Welcome to the Rumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's wrestling time.

_... But to that second circle of sad hell,_

_Where ‘mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw_

_Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell_

_Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,_

_Pale were the lips I kiss’d, and fair the form_

_I floated with, about that melancholy storm_

 

They fell for ages. Pam wasn’t sure how she knew they were falling, and it proved impossible among the whirling and tearing of reality to discern the passage of time. Yet they still fell. After a few moments of unconsciousness Pam pried her eyes open and found herself again in unfamiliar territory. She felt a gale ripping around her though there was no indication of its origin. As far as Pam could tell she’d ended up in a windowless room without light. She brought herself to her feet and focused on her surroundings, reaching out with her sensors and energy only to realize they no longer functioned. In the Wasteland and Skyrim she’d been able to access abilities which allowed her to crush those in her way. She could kill with a thought, create matter from nothing, and even revive her slain enemies to again butcher their mangled corpses for amusement. Yet this new location had somehow suppressed her innate abilities. _I not like this at all_ , she thought. What had G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. got her into?

 

Which begged the question, where was G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. anyway? Pam turned her head a few times and saw only darkness. Perhaps the cybercat tricked her and left her stranded in this new dimension. She felt a pang of regret that she ever trusted him in the first place, but the time for revenge was later. Pam stretched out her arms and grasped around her, hoping to find weapons or at least feel something solid. Her palms grazed concrete walls much closer than she expected, but thankfully surrounding her on only three sides. She strode forward, one hand on the wall and the other in front. The wind blew faster.

 

After several minutes of careful striding Pam noticed a slit of light at the end of the hallway. As she drew closer the illumination helped her make out shapes of objects. She nearly tripped on a stack of folding chairs and had to briefly crawl to avoid a metal ladder, both of which were unceremoniously stacked in her path. Once she was again standing Pam found herself directly in front of the light source which she recognized as being level with her feet. Not only was this the end of the hall, but also apparently the source of the gusts which continued to blow louder. She stretched out her hand and this time it struck smooth wood. _A door,_ she mused. Sure enough more groping led her to grasp a cold metal handle protruding from the wood. _Only one way out of this_. Pam seized a kendo stick that for some inexplicable reason leaned against the door and turned the handle. She threw her body at the frame, pushing against a gale which frenetically tried to contain her. Pam’s body responded to her efforts, her unnatural strength seemingly still intact. She screamed with ferocity that few deathclaws could match and nearly tore the door from its hinges as she burst through the hallway and into a dozen glaring spotlights. Pam held her stick in the right hand and shielded her eyes with the left. When her eyes adjusted, she couldn’t help but feel amazed by the raucous mural into which she’d stepped.

 

The wind had gone, its sound replaced by the noise of thousands of cheering humans seated in an immense indoor arena. She stood on an elevated platform which spewed gouts of flame on both of her sides. Behind her, a gargantuan screen displayed live camera feed of her as she examined the surroundings spliced between strangely professional pictures of her menacing smile. While Pam was still processing how those photos were obtained, a furry hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. She swiveled her head and glared at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s apologetic face.

            “What have you done you pathetic snake?” Pam shouted, grabbing the cat by his neck fur. “I have no problem gutting you in front of humans if you not speak soon,” emphasizing the point by jabbing his ribs with the kendo stick.

            “Pam let’s not be hasty darling.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. muttered nervously, hands up beside his head. “I assure you this was certainly not intentional.” The crowd cheered as Pam tossed him down a ramp descending into the center of the arena. Though he landed on his feet, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. barely had time to stand before Pam again clutched him by the throat.

            “Where are we?” she demanded through gritted teeth. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. answered by raising a shaking hand, pointing at the screen behind them. Pam dropped the frightened cyborg and squinted. “Wrest…leman…ia?” Though she was new to this whole dimensional travel thing, she was certain this world didn’t exist even in legends. Before Pam could continue interrogation of her companion a booming voice echoed throughout the square arena.

            “It looks like there’s some trouble between our next challenger and her manager!” said the voice with amusement. “She’ll have to save some of that for the Cell!” Pam briefly considered what the voice could be talking about until seconds later an enormous metal cage dropped from the ceiling, trapping her and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. inside. Simultaneously, a panel opened up in the floor of the arena which spewed forth a raised white platform which stood several feet taller than the average human. Elastic ropes formed the platform’s perimeter. Most significantly, the platform contained nearly a dozen of the largest, beefiest boys Pam had ever seen. Dressed in foreign garments which clung tightly to their bodies, the combatants grinned at Pam and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. with some even motioning for her to step into the ring. Even though her supernatural powers remained locked away Pam knew her raw strength remained. She pulled herself up to the edge of the ring and hung on the outside. She’d never needed to back down from a fight against humans. These oddly muscular ones didn’t frighten her. 

            “I give all chance to surrender. Leave now and there is no hurting.” She swung her upturned palm toward the cage’s door (although Pam couldn’t comprehend why a cage might have a door) to accentuate her point. A sweet beef boy tried to rebuff her offer with an elbow to the face, but quickly found Pam was stronger than she looked. Said elbow shattered upon contact with Pam’s forehead and the assailant fell to his knees, groaning. She bent the elastic ropes and used them to vault into the center of the arena. Pam smiled. Her solitary constant in life was violence which she welcomed like a family friend. “Hurting starts now, yes?”

            The audience members howled with joy while they watched the unfolding melee. Audible blows rang around the arena and the excited cheers turned to angry yells which petered out into shocked silence. When the final wrestler was thrown against the cage wall, the thud from his fall could be heard without difficulty. Whoever this newcomer claimed to be, she wrestled unlike any previous competitor.

            Pam leaned on her knees, breathing heavily. She still needed time for her body to adjust to this world. The exertion of besting twelve humans hardly phased her, but the effort it took to render them helpless with style gave her pause. _This could take some getting used to_.

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. caught her eye by waving his arms frantically. Pam cocked her head to the side. “What you doing?” she whispered. He responded by miming a bow and raising his arms, then pointing to her. She shot him a quizzical look but soon realized his intention.

“I not much of a showman G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D..”

“Irrelevant Pam, you need to win them over while you’ve still got the chance!” he whispered with urgency.

            Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Pam raised both her arms with fists clenched. The silence hung in the air and for a short period of time she felt something unlike anything else she’d been programmed to feel. A dread unlike that which accompanied being under fire or the emotions experienced when her sons disappeared around her. It was almost as if Pam feared she would disappoint these anonymous humans, as if she wanted their respect after showing them the one skill she possessed. She dared not let it show on her face, but for a moment Pam felt embarrassed.

            Thankfully as soon as the feeling came it passed. The crowd erupted into the loudest cheers she’d heard since her arrival in this strange new world. Her eyes darted toward G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. once more and he grinned, motioning again for her to bow. She stiffly bent at the waist to continued applause. Pam could not understand why these people accepted her actions, but she knew she liked how their approval made her feel. Reminiscent of how she felt when surrounded by her sons or when Metal Husband clasped her in his mechanical arms. Different, but in a good way.

Smirking, Pam strode over to one of her fallen foes and with one arm raised him above her head. The crowd booed while G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. yelled something incomprehensible at them, then moved his paws across his throat. Pam heaved the beaten wrestler towards G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. who deftly kicked the poor man in the chin and through the metal cage door. The people yelled and laughed as the man struggled to stand before limping out of sight. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. gave Pam a thumbs-up and she copied the gesture. _Not sure why cat is having so much fun,_ she thought, but it couldn’t hurt to enjoy the moment. She leaned out over the edge of the ring and grasped the cyborg’s forearm, yanking him up onto the platform beside her. Their eyes met and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. winked. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Pam couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride. _Is nice to feel important_. The pair took a simultaneous bow while humans all around them clapped.

            Their victory proved short lived. Pam and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. both recognized a change in the tone of the room not thirty seconds after their bow. They looked at the ramp from which they’d originally descended and saw the wrestler whom G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had just ejected from the cage. However the fighter now stood next to a strange metal capsule attached to various screens and tubes. The pod emitted a burst of steam when the fighter pressed several buttons on an input, causing the arena lights to dim for a few seconds. The capsule split in half and swung open on hidden hinges, revealing a stout shape emerging from the fog. Nearly half the audience seemed to recognize the process taking place and raised bright green signs with the words “Billion Dollar Princess” scrawled across them.

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. muttered something about caution under his breath, gesturing toward the kendo stick which lay broken in half over some unfortunate wrestler’s body. Pam retrieved the weapon, handing one half to her friend and holding the other half parallel to her forearm. _No need for pride. Not out of woods yet._

            The loudspeaker crackled to life and cheerfully announced the arrival of this unknown figure. “Ladies and gentleman! This is quite a surprise! All the way from Capetown, South Africa, the beautiful man-spider himself is here!” People in the audience reacted in different ways to this news; some stood and began to chant, others sat stone-faced, and others barely concealed looks of abject horror.

            “The son of our very own Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, please give a warm welcome to the one, the only, Christopher Christopher ‘The Pebble’ Christopher Chrrrrrristopher!”

            Pam pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her eyes. “G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.,” she asked in a resigned tone, “what the fuck is going on?”


	4. Pam and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. meet Chris

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. always prided himself on being a cat of simple means. He only ever wanted a few things: the company of fellow beings, moments of excitement that he could later turn into exaggerated stories, and lasagna either in pasta or .JPEG format. But somewhere in his circuitry he knew there were questions he longed to answer. How could an electronic feline come about in the land of Skyrim? Could he ever truly experience emotion? He tried not to think about anything beyond the surface level of artificial consciousness. Honestly, he was rather content with the simple, easy life he’d made without answering hard questions.

However, nothing made him long for the simple life more than the moment when Pam asked him what the fuck was going on. It was really one of those questions which were better left uncontemplated. Yet G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s visual receptors and logic algorithms strived to find a solution to the query. Tactical programs were already suggesting multiple courses of action. Unfortunately G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stood motionless inside the ring while he tried to make sense of the grotesque figure that descended the ramp.

Bioscans immediately determined 100% genetic similarity between the previously beaten wrestler who released this monster and the monster itself.

“He’s a clone of that man you just vanquished,” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. relayed in hushed tones to Pam.

“Really? This is clone?” she angrily whispered back. “Because where I’m from clones look like replica, not irradiated garbage child.”

She had a point. Though their genetic material was the same the new wrestler featured some glaring differences from his father. They shared the same face and complexion. However, the most noticeable problem with the clone was the impossible proportions of its body. He stood nearly a foot shorter than G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., but his abdomen stretched twice the size of an average human’s as if pregnant with a hedgehog fetus. The protruding gut poured into a pair of terribly well-tailored capris which wrapped tightly around the man’s small thighs. These thighs were supported by rotund and muscle-bound calves that ended in stupid Krusty the Clown feet crammed inside tasteful heels.

Still nothing shook G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. more than analysis of their adversary’s arms. Despite checking empirical data twice he could not conceive of how the limbs functioned. They hung all the way down to the wrestler’s knees, hands and fingers elongated like they’d been molded from fleshy taffy and pounded until flat. The arms too were impossibly thin and lacking depth, though the fighter’s brown jacket made them appear almost three-dimensional. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. might have thought them made of paper were it not for bone scans which revealed osteoporosis-riddled ulnas and humeri barely supporting fragile skin. 

It should have been unbearable for this man to move at all, yet he did so with fluid and graceful motions. He strode quickly and with confidence, spiderlike hands running up his chest and hips caressing his body in a show of sexuality G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hadn’t prepared for. The clone stepped over bodies of previously beaten wrestlers who upon hearing the click of his heels summoned what strength they had and fled. The clone gave a small chuckle and slid under the ring’s elastic ropes, making sure to spend significant time arching his back and straddling the cords with spread legs. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s sensors notified him that this person’s charisma and submission values reached record numbers.

“So I know this whole situation is weird but that was sexy right?”

“Yeah pretty hot,” Pam solemnly agreed.

The wrestler finished his entrance by coming to a stop at the center of the ring and raising his brittle hand in a salute. Screams from the audience grew louder. The clone’s father hobbled to the side of the cage yelling inaudible instructions, but the man just held his pose without breaking G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s eye contact. He hadn’t been given much latitude when it came to programs simulating feelings, but for a few moments G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. gathered data which normally would have been filtered out. Eye color, jaw angle, lip color. He couldn’t help it; he was intrigued by this horror.

While G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. studied the clone, Pam made a stilted attempts at diplomacy. The announcer’s joyful tones described the nature, rules, and goals of the fight about to take place as she asked the man his name.

“My father calls me Chris, but in here I’m known as the Pebble.” His voice was high for a male but he spoke clearly and without hesitation. “You must be new. It’s really too bad this has to be our first meeting.” He stopped saluting and placed his long fingers at his hip. “Maybe later we can grab a few drinks and I’ll show you both around.” He never stopped staring at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.

“You don’t want to fight me Christopher,” Pam said. “We’re only here to escape something chasing me. If you try and stop me, it not go well for you.” She believed herself for the most part. Despite her psychic and supernatural abilities being limited she’d detected weakness in this man. She knew her own strength.

“With all due respect ma’am I have no choice in the matter.” The Pebble’s lip curled into a half-smile as he gestured toward his father. “I’m just here to do my job. I do what Daddy says.”

Jarred, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. tore his eyes off Chris and looked at the shouting wrestler outside the cage. The man waved his arms and pounded on the cage but in like, a really supportive and caring way. Pam nodded her head at the father.

“G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., can you make sure original does not interfere? If we must fight, I want fair fight.” The cat gave her a thumbs-up and jumped out of the ring. Pam was more than a match for the attractive stranger and he had no intention of being on the receiving end of her fury once more. _Perhaps the father can help us get out_ , he mused. _No need to be here longer than necessary._ A bell rang somewhere. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. winced as he heard two bodies smack together. _I hope she doesn’t hurt him too badly_. _He seems nice._


	5. Caged Ratbags

Pam intended to end the fight quickly. When the bell sounded she charged directly toward Christopher hoping to hurl him against the cage and render him unconscious. Even as she lowered her shoulder while throwing her body at his chest, the plan seemed simple and effective. Pam almost finished congratulating herself on the restraint she was showing this imbecile before she realized the wrestler remained unfazed. Spindly fingers wrapped around her arms, pulling Pam into his solar plexus. The Pebble absorbed the full force of Pam’s charge but apparently didn’t feel it. She heard bones splinter under his jacket and even forced her shoulder to plunge several inches into chest tissue. Christopher pushed her back to the center of the ring. He paused to wipe away a trickle of blood running down his mouth, staring at the red smear on his palm.

“A good start,” he said with a hint of amusement. He placed his palms flat on his pectoral muscles and pushed against them, forcing the cavity Pam made to pop out like blowing air into a crushed water bottle. A few specks of blood stained the white floor. “Now what did you say your name was?”

“Pam.” She was still processing how Christopher was able to withstand the pain he should be feeling.

“Pam nice to meet you. I know it’s rude to skip pleasantries but may I ask a question?” He slowly paced the edges of the ring with the same confident and improbable gait as before. Pam was not a fan of his insolence. _Whatever you are, you not understand what I’m capable of._ She lurched forward and sidestepped a rapid chop, responding by grabbing her broken kendo stick with both hands and shoving the pointed end through Christopher’s left bicep. Before he could respond she jumped back to the center of the ring with teeth bared.

“By all means.” Pam studied the wrestler, judging whether her show of dominance gave him pause. He’d stopped pacing and his face no longer wore a mask of politeness but of determination. He stared back at her with furrowed brows, grasping the stick with his right hand.

“You’re clearly an accomplished warrior,” he said as he pulled the stick from his arm. Blood and an unidentified fluid gushed from the wound, further staining the mat. “Throughout your many battles, have you ever felt pain?” He maintained eye contact. At the same time he opened his mouth so wide that Pam could clearly see his contorted uvula. She thought she heard clicking as his jaw continued to descend. A slimy pink tube rose from his throat, winding itself along the discarded weapon. Damp spots of oil and saliva appeared at the Pebble’s feet.

Pam knew she could not let herself be intimidated. “Who are you to ask me such questions? I am Pam, scourge of Wasteland. My hands are stained by blood of raiders and my heart hardened by nuclear furnace.” She scoffed, turning her back on Christopher and lifting her arms toward the crowd. “I feel no pain. I AM pain!” The crowd surged with excitement, alternating between chants of “Pam” and “pain.”

A loud gulp prompted her to face her adversary once more. The kendo stick had disappeared from sight and Christopher’s mouth had returned to an acceptable size. Yet Pam detected something in his eyes that stopped her taunts. The stoic, confident façade which previously faced her was gone, replaced by the look that a radstag wore after being chased by a mongrel pack for a week. “You _are_ pain? I’m sorry to learn that.” His voice was almost too quiet to hear. “But I still have a job to finish.” His heels tapped softly in her direction.

The suggestion of pity in his tone did not settle well. “I not need your sympathy.” She balled her hands into fists.

“Well what about your empathy?”

When Christopher entered arm’s reach Pam showered him with blows which his frail arms deflected as best they could. For a minute the ring was a flurry of movement, tangled limbs flailing and thrashing against the other. Though Christopher’s avian bones had mostly shattered by this point he countered Pam with a series of sturdy chops. Each blow he landed was repaid in double, her bloodlust fueled by the crowd’s jeers and her own fury. Several dumb mistakes in the Pebble’s defense coupled by an imprecise punch getting caught in his boa allowed Pam to bounce him off the ropes and crush his femur with a roundhouse kick. He landed face down on ring, fresh injuries leaking fluid. Even though his leg lay sprawled at an unusual angle, he used his other relatively healthy limbs to lean himself against the turnbuckle. The tired expression remained but he appeared otherwise functional. After taking a few moments to catch his breath Christopher pulled himself up to stand on top of the turnbuckle, much to the crowd’s pleasure. The sound of bone grinding on bone was louder than the vomiting of several drunken audience members. 

“How could you feel empathy for me?” spat Pam. She asked her question after some heavy breathing; the limits of this world seemed to be exertion-based. “We’ve known each other for literally five minutes.”

“True, but I think we’re more similar than you realize.” Christopher gestured at the audience, his broken wrist flopping with the motion. “Listen, you’re from another world. You know what it’s like outside the ring.” He grimaced, staring at the sea of green “Princess” signs. “But the pain of the ring is all I know.” He turned his head to see G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. conversing with his father on the outside of the cage. “The man who cloned me is the only friend I’ve got. I’ve not been here very long, but for as long as I’ve been conscious he’s cared for me. He taught me how to survive in this arena, how to please the crowd.” The Pebble looked away when G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. noticed his gaze and gave him a sheepish wave. “Tonight the WrestleMania prize is the Shadowwalker title belt, but every night for me the goal is the same. I cannot disappoint my father. Not one time.”

At the mention of the belt Pam’s gaze flitted to the ceiling. Suspended from a rope outside the cage hung an ebony strap with a ruby-plated buckle. She reached out with invisible hands and sensed it contained far more energy than any other entity in the stadium. The Pebble noticed her interest.

“That’s the Shadowwalker belt. I suspect if you win this match it will allow you to escape this world.” He launched himself from the turnbuckle, elbow aimed at Pam’s skull. “But I can’t let you win!”

 

***

 

Despite the bizarre circumstances, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. found himself quite enjoying his conversation with Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson. As it turned out, not only was he an accomplished wrestler, but also was in the middle of several philanthropic projects which he supported with his acting career. He also spoke at length about his cloning experiment and how proud he was of his son. _An honest gentleman. A genuine wrestle-boy,_ he mused.

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s warm feelings were interrupted by a flash of green light at the opposite end of the ring. The crowd hissed upon sighting the new fighters, but G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. recognized them as the interlopers who seemed to be hunting Pam. A cold bead of sweat ran down his fuzzy forehead. His ability to jump between worlds was altered upon entering WrestleMania and he knew he just had to find the trigger to give his powers back. But he couldn’t make the jump if he was torn in half by these trackers.

            The Rock also seemed uneasy about the new competitors. He tensed his muscles and spoke sternly. “I’ll gather the remaining wrestlers and try to hold them off. Warn your friend. If you must leave our plane, then so be it.” He drew a flip phone from his belt and punched some numbers. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. began to climb the cage to get closer to the whirlwind of activity inside. Before he was out of earshot, The Rock bellowed “G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.!” The cybercat froze and squinted down on the beloved American icon. “Please take care of my son.” 

 

                                                                        ***

 

            Pam could tell the cadence of their fight had changed. Aside from the irregular attack patterns which resulted from the new ways his bones articulated, she could sense desperation in Christopher’s wild swings. Punches with too much force, an overextended leg sweep, all frantic attempts to cause her real damage. She knew she was still far stronger than him, but his unwillingness to yield earned her begrudging respect. Even with torn muscles he’d managed to pick up some stairs attached to the ring and throw an aerial assault off balance. She redirected herself midair and landed on the cage’s side. He lunged after her, she jumped toward him and both their fists smacked against the other’s abdomen. Pam landed on her feet, skidding to a halt against elastic ropes. She clutched her stomach, impressed that the Pebble’s blows remained powerful. Yet her own strike caused her foe, now hanging on a high corner of the cage, to splutter out strands of thick green mucous. _Die, fool. You had fun, now be good clone and give up._

            “Pam! They’re here!” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s voice broke her concentration. She tried to find what G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was talking about but Christopher had already seized the opportunity. He fell upon her with the grace of a beautiful man spider and ferocity of ten Super Mutants, stringy fingers cracking whip-like beside her face. She raised her arms and jumped back, feverishly deflecting his strikes. She minded her feet and kept a few steps ahead of the Pebble’s clumsy pace, but she did not enjoy being on the defensive. He lifted his arms above his head and nearly brought them down on Pam’s shoulders, but she summoned her strength and caught his wrists as they descended. The fluid-soaked floor of the ring cracked, but Pam held firm. They glared at each other they struggled, frozen in their opponent’s grip.

            “Why you fight so hard?” Pam growled. “Give up!”

            “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Christopher pushed his wrists down harder. “I have a reason to fight.” He glanced over his shoulder to see his father standing on the announcer’s table, shouting commands to dozens of wrestlers clustered into a phalanx of ladders and folding chairs. The extradimensional fighters approached at a slow pace, but their calm demeanor made him worry about his dad. “That is why I don’t give up.”

            “Okay, cut out sanctimonious bullshit.” Nothing was less interesting than a moralizing 5-day-old. “You don’t think I have reason to fight?” Pam’s exasperation gave her strength. She summoned her energy and launched both of them skyward. As they ascended, she stretched out her palm toward the assembled fighters, most of whom were being beaten to a pulp by the hunters. “Christopher, everyone has reason to fight. From John Cena to Hulk Hogan, every being you meet has own motivations. Whether those reasons are good or bad is up for debating.” As they smashed through the top of the cage, Pam pointed at the audience. “Even humans watching us fight. They’re here because they want to be. Even if think the ‘why’ of why they’re here is dumb, doesn’t mean you have moral high ground. We all just trying to do what we think is best.”

            “Huh.”

They reached the peak of their arc and hovered at the top of the arena. Time seemed to slow. A blast of noise erupted from all around them, half from the viewers’ cheers and half from the literal energy blasts which crumpled defending wrestlers. A hundred constellations from camera flashes twinkled from the stands. Below them, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. screeched that they had to leave NOW.

“And what’s your ‘why,’ Pam?”

She had released his wrists which now sagged at his side. While they sank down Pam tried to interpret Chris’ face. Where before had been a warrior now there was a child. She sighed. “A story for another time.” They plummeted back to the ground, staggering as they landed next to the hole at the cage’s top. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stumbled toward them, the black title belt in paw. Wind howled around the trio.

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stretched the belt and started buckling the three of them together, but Chris stopped him. “I have to get my dad! He’s still down there!” Green lights flashed up from the edge of the cage. Fate was not on the side of WWE.

The feline perceived the fear in Chris’ voice. “Listen. Chris.” He put his paws on the Pebble’s fractured shoulders. “Your father cares about you very much. He asked me to keep you safe. It’s not safe back there.” He spoke softly. “We can keep you safe.” Pam nearly protested, but recognized it was not to her advantage to argue at this time.

Chris’ voice trembled. “I don’t know what to do.” Through the cage’s mesh wire he saw his father stand alone among a pile of crumpled bodies. The foreign shapes closed in on him. The Rock turned his back on the enemy and brought his hand up in a salute.

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hugged Chris. “Trust us.”

Still shaking, the clone nodded. He looked down at his father’s face before it was engulfed in darkness and brought his own spindly hand to his forehead. The three vanished in a column of white light. The last thing Chris saw was a smile.

 

                                                            ***

Roachie studied the battlefield, now littered with corpses of dead wrestlers and unlucky fans. Trash Hulk and Metal Husband finished pushing debris out of the way so they could observe the markings left behind when their prey jumped worlds. They converged on a perfect circle burnt into the center of the ring. The robot scanned the symbols which ran along the circle’s perimeter. Trash Hulk licked the mat’s burnt edges.

“Tastes like pizza.”

The Mr. Handy beeped in confirmation, then slid a communicator to Roachie. He snatched it and brought it to his antennae.

“Yes sir. It’s just as you said. Pursuit proceeding as planned.”


	6. Pam in Wonderland

_So pass’d we through that mixture foul_

_Of spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhile_

_Touching, though slightly, on the life to come._

_For thus I question’d: “Shall these tortures, Sir!_

_When the great sentence passes, be increased,_

_Or mitigated, or as now severe?”_

 

The Shadowwalker belt prevented them from separating while they fell. Though Pam was grateful to be rid of her pursuers, she now found herself tied to a man she’d previously tried to beat to death. No one knew how long the plane shift would take which led to an uncomfortable stretch of quiet and shifting gazes, none of the three daring to break the silence as they descended a featureless vortex with no discernible light. At one point she felt G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. inhale before making some inane comment which she promptly aborted by pinching his soggy fur. _Now is not good time_.

The smell of pizza hit them after several minutes. Soon after Pam realized she was undergoing a change. Her clothes morphed and she could sense her abilities gain strength. Her companions were altered too though neither spoke, realizing they didn’t understand the situation enough to say more than “Oh geez that’s new.” They’d all figure it out eventually.

Their journey to the Corridor proved mercifully short. Before any real tension developed the trio hit the ground with a thud. Pam still couldn’t see anything. She pulled herself to her feet, dragging Chris and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D along since they were still attached at the waist. But the ground felt much different than any surface they were used to. Pam’s new combat boots trod along some sort of stone floor, but she struggled to tread through some viscous substance that came up to her knees. Pam tried to access automated maps or any internal computer interface, but again her abilities were restricted. She had to rely on magical intuition to pinpoint an exit.

Damp and sticky sleet began to float down from above.

            After several more minutes of trudging in silence, Pam felt pulled toward an unidentified source. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s head jerked up as well and he paddled in the same direction. Chris tried to help as best he could, but the odor of pizza grew stronger and raunchier, and he really was not about that. When they finally found the thing which called them closer, Pam’s only sense was that of standing at a cliff’s edge, shivering against the cold. She still could not see.

            “Pam, maybe we could-“

            No one will ever know what the three of them could do. Pam knew she had to keep moving, so down they went off the cliff. Immediately following Pam’s leap she witnessed a That’s So Raven-style vision. Out of the darkness appeared an elderly woman draped in a dark purple robe. Her gnarled, fungus-covered face drew close to Pam’s own, and she could felt this woman’s pupil-less eyes boring into soul. In her left hand she held a paper bag which Pam knew was full of delicious Arby’s meat slabs, and in her right she held a white and green disc. Pam reached out but grasped at nothing. While they descended a frail voice whispered in her ear.

 

            _Wash out the blood from sinful hands_

_Escape my world of Comic Sans_

_Seek out a stud you know too well_

_A flag unfurled inside this hell_

Luckily the drop remained brief and the landing soft, primarily because they now found themselves treading tomato sauce in a rank and cheesy swamp. While G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. appeared to enjoy the exercise, Pam preferred not to die with lungs full of grease and so swam to a nearby ledge. She heaved the three of them up over the side with ease and they sat for a while, panting. Sleet continued pelting their sauce-drenched clothes, conveniently cleaning off the majority of the marsh’s remains.

Pam tossed off the now-powerless Shadowalker belt and examined her new appearance. The clothes were familiar- red dress with fur trim, military-grade boots, white sunglasses. She also felt the comforting weight of a steel battleaxe strapped to her back. _Acceptable for now_. Her companions too had changed. Chris’ wounds vanished and bones were intact once more. He now faced a different problem, as he’d spawned wearing a full suit of knight’s armor that had not been crafted with his frame in mind. His spindly fingers twirled a flat shield with a game show host’s visage engraved directly into its wood. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was naked and content to cover his junk with a slice of pepperoni he found floating in the swamp. Chris tried his best not to stare.

“Well,” asked the cat, “now what?”

Pam pointed. The quagmire they’d emerged from lay next to the ruins of a dilapidated fortress. From where they stood, they saw a cobblestone path cut through rocky cliffs which appeared to lead to a bridge in the distance. She did not wait for her companions. The witch’s words struck a nerve within her and she would not stop until she solved this riddle. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. cheerfully followed in her footsteps while Chris clanked along behind, clutching his sagging armor.

As the trio reached the bridge they noticed several objects of interest. Firstly, the bridge was made of pizza. Straight up. Secondly, the bridge stretched about half a mile over a misty expanse before connecting to another cliff upon which a huge castle was built. Thirdly, the castle too was made of pizza.

“G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., is this really all pizza?” Pam questioned, irritated by the thought that her suspicious were true.

He nodded. “Affirmative, ma’am. The sauce and toppings indicate pepperoni and the crust confirms it’s no pasta.” He sounded disappointed.

Pam ignored his sour tone and focused on the castle’s spire. At its peak flew a flag, though she couldn’t make out any details from this distance. “We go there,” she stated plainly. The witch had mentioned a flag. No one could or wanted to argue, so they continued making their way across the bridge.

“Pam, you never ended up saying what you were doing this journey for.” Chris tried to probe politely, but his interest overwhelmed him. “How come you’re all the way out here instead of back in your home world?” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s audio sensors perked up. He had wanted to enquire why Pam didn’t return home during their first meeting, but he’d become so caught up in his own narrative he’d forgotten to ask.

She didn’t turn around to face Chris. Though he’d proven resilient, she neither trusted nor respected him. But it wasn’t often anyone cared enough to ask about her past. “A lot of bad things happen in my world. I try to fix them. It go wrong. Now I look for someone.”

“Darlin’ everyone’s lookin’ for someone, right?” His youthful enthusiasm was too genuine to dampen. Pam chuckled. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. shuddered at the sound; it was unnatural.

“This is true.” She didn’t allow time for more questions since they had reached the bridge’s other side. What waited for them was a crumpled body laying at flight of stairs leading to the encrusted castle. Pam studied the corpse while G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stripped it of its now unnecessary belongs- robes made of pizza and bottles of Mountain Dew. The unfortunate victim’s flesh comprised mainly pepperoni pizza, though its disfigured face was solid red. All three noticed claw marks which raked the body numerous times, presumably leading to its demise. Chris removed his helmet and placed it on his breast.

“We go now.” Pam noted the wounds continued to seep marinara; clearly whatever killed this being still hunted in the area. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and Chris nodded, but the robo-feline stopped to dress himself in the dead creature’s clothes. While he struggled to fit his furry form into squishy robes, Pam felt several new presences. Sure enough, a tall, armored warrior appeared on the bridge behind them, halberd at his side. Pam unsheathed her battleaxe, walking calmly toward this new foe.

She came within 15 feet of the knight before a shrill hillbilly shriek pieced the air.

“Run!” yodeled an unseen speaker. “Don’t let ‘im git you too!”

As the warning faded the knight dropped its halberd and stretched out its arms. One side sprouted brown tendrils which twisted into an ethereal claw, and from the other burst a grotesque tyrannosaur head with glowing red eyes. Pam was not afraid, but knew that practicality served as a better guide than pride. She erected a wall of flame between her and the blood dinosaur before booking it off the bridge. Chris and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. were way ahead of her.

 _I hope I don’t get used to this dumb shit_ , she thought as the dino-knight lunged


	7. Hi! My Name Is-

Despite Pam’s best efforts to hamper their pursuer with hunks of pizza, the blood dinosaur refused to slow. With the hillbilly’s shouted guidance the three monsters managed to climb several cheese-coated staircases without being eaten. But she knew they couldn’t keep this frantic pace. Chris’ ventilators had already kicked into overdrive and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. didn’t have the time to summon horses. _Must act soon_.

            “How strong could dinosaur be?” Pam shouted up at the green-haired bumpkin scrambling in front of them. He pulled G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. up a crusty ledge before chucking some slices at the knight, then continued fleeing. Pam did likewise for Chris, noting the dinosaur enjoyed the mid-race snack. She put her arm around Chris and leaped forward onto a stretch of flat cobblestone. If they sprinted, they might widen the gap between hunter and prey.

            “That there body y’all saw was mah good friend #Noid!” The yokel’s breath came in sharp bursts. “Now lemme tell y’all somethin’ #Noid was a damn good fighter, ya hear? Best dang pizzamancer this side of Kentuck if I do say so mahself.” He jerked his thumb at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. “Now he’s dead and some furbag’s wearin’ his skivvies!”

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. shrugged. “What’s a hashtagnoid?”

            Pam wasn’t convinced. Noticing they were about to scramble up an incline again, she suggested she stay and fight to buy them time. “I can hold it back. And no one will be in way.” She ran her fingers along her battleaxe’s hilt, excited by the prospect of finally having a worthy opponent.

            “Well just wait a dang second,” their guide spluttered. “If yer so willin’ to get yer dick torn off and thrown in the ocean, at least let us git to the fountain. There’s a narrow pass so he won’t be able to git around ya if ya wanna go and fight ‘im.”

            “A choke point!” Chris exclaimed. “Certainly that will give us an advantage!”

            Pam glared at the Pebble, though he seemed not to notice. She’d already resisted bringing him along. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s ability to shift dimensions proved useful, but the wrestler had yet to prove his worth. As of now no one could match Pam’s strength, and she’d been running too long to not reward herself with some fun. As the group scrambled down a cheesy cliff, they reached a flat plane which contained a circular pool of ankle deep water.

            “Green boy! Take rest of them to top!” Pam ordered. Even as she unbuckled her battleaxe the water trembled from the shock of the lumbering dinosaur’s steps. The guide seemed to want to stay, but the tenor of Pam’s voice caused him to think better of it. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., once again able to stretch his limbs to preposterous proportions, extended an oversized arm to a ledge above the fountain and allowed the hillbilly and Chris to climb up the fuzzy bridge. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. too flung himself to safety and watched Pam from afar. He’d already been on the receiving end of her anger; there was no reason to be within range once she went off.

            The blood dinosaur was briefly slowed by the narrow pass. It widened the pass by smashing through with a single thrust from its contorted snout. That second of distraction was all Pam needed. She launched herself into the air and summarily brought her axe down on the monster’s knight head. Its helmet caved under the force of the swing and the knight dropped to its knees. The T-Rex head made a half-hearted snap at Pam’s arm which she batted away, then repaid by loping off the arm from which the second head protruded. Blood and marinara soaked her combat boots. She felt a shiver of pleasure and did her best to hide her excitement. _Always good to make statement with your entrance._ Her comrades descended the cliff and examined the corpse. Their guide made a visible effort to distance himself from our protagonist.

            For the first time Pam was able to get a clear view of the strange creature they’d followed all this way. His frame was real little, scrawny with not a visible muscle. Frail skin barely covered his whole body which was so white it was possible he painted it. A flap of a nose was barely visible between his jutting, rouge-smeared cheeks. Perhaps he had lips. It was impossible to say, since a grody, thin mustache obscured his mouth from view. His eyes too were hard to see through his long lashes. Possibly the most unnerving aspect of this new acquaintance was the fact that every hair on his body seemed to be dyed bright green, from his lashes to his stache, bowl cut to balls (of which Pam had unfortunately caught glimpses during their escape). All in all, just a rowdy, dirty boy.

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. broke the silence. “Say there old chap, didn’t catch your name.”

            The nasty boy’s mouth twitched. “Nice to meet y’all. The name’s Scum. But most folks call me ‘The Junker.’”


	8. Character Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of what I'd written over the course of a few months in 2016 before shit went bad. Hopefully I can pick up where I left off now. No promises, because it's been a year since I worked on this dumb project. God I hope this somehow makes me good at writing.

Though Pam had no need for rest, the group elected to stop before night fell. Scum advised they stay indoors during the night to avoid a host of horrors deemed too terrible for description. The party traversed the ruins while the sun fell closer to the horizon, eventually setting up camp under a stone parapet caked in dried cheese. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. tried some texture swaps to make their sleeping space comfy, but the pizza’s ubiquity proved troublesome. Pam volunteered to take first watch, electing to warm hunks of pizza over a lit bonfire while the others dozed off in makeshift pepperoni sleeping bags.

            She gazed into the flames, considering her feelings about the entourage she’d gathered. She knew what to do with the green yokel. He was a tool, nothing more, that much was evident. There was, however, something to the others which she hadn’t quite processed. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. seemed trustworthy enough, and should he betray her Pam could easily bring about his end. But she felt strangely about the robo-khajiit. Perhaps interplanar travel had altered her threat assessment capacities, but she couldn’t sense anything approaching malice or deceit in him. For all she could tell, he was simply along for the ride. But why? He’d made her promise to protect him while she stalked her prey, but for all his feline instinct G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. himself was no hunter.

            A muffled snore prompted Pam to look over at her dozing companions. The cat had positioned his meaty sleeping bag strangely close to Christopher’s, with G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s tail entirely too close to the wrestler’s misshapen feet to be accidental. Pam shut out thoughts of her old life, when she once feigned sleep while listening to the steady breaths of another. Since her reincarnation Pam couldn’t remember how her former body approximated pain, but this longing for something no longer attainable felt similar. The Pebble unconsciously rubbed his toes against the robot’s fluffy appendage.

            What to make of the strange warrior? Pam’s green eyes shone in the firelight. She’d exchanged blows with this recently-orphaned clone. She knew he could take a few hits, but as a pawn he’d proven worthless. Perhaps that’s what angered her. She had never thought humility a desirable trait, yet Chris seemed to know his flaws and not feel ashamed of them. Her nails dug into her palms. How could a mere child understand anything of what she’d witnessed? It would not be so hard to grab him by the throat and hurl him over the nearest precipice and tell G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. he’d simply vanished. How dare he compare his trivial family worries with deific betrayal?

            A tap on the shoulder caused her to whirl around and seize the Junker’s throat, lifting his skinny frame from the crusty floor.

            “’Scuse…me…” he spluttered. Seeing his cudgel sheathed on his back and sensing no aggression, Pam let the bumpkin fall in a heap at her feet.

            “Unless you want own spine removed through crusty mouth, you not sneak up on Pam.” she hissed through gritted teeth.

            The Junker gasped for a few seconds before pulling himself to his knees. “S-sorry ma’am. I just…” He pointed a shaky finger at the bonfire. “You were glarin’ at the fire and it kept getting’ real hot, so I couldn’t sleep and figured you’d want some comp’ny.”

            Pam didn’t respond, instead opting to again stare at the flames. Undaunted, the Junker pushed several piles of cheese into a small lump alongside the axe which Pam leaned against. He withdrew a Camel-brand cigarette from somewhere under his loincloth and use the fire to light it. Together they sat in silence which was frequently interrupted by Scum’s coughing fits. After a particularly wheeze-free stretch of quiet, Junker posed a question.

            “Ma’am, if ya don’t mind me askin’, what’re y’all doin’ here? This place ain’t exactly a day at the beach.”

            Pam thought for a bit. “We need to get to castle,” she said, gesturing toward a spire in the distance. “Creepy meat woman told me about flag in castle. Said I’d find someone I knew.” Through the excitement of the day, Pam kept the woman’s words in the back of her mind. Should they enter the castle, it entirely possible they’d be walking into a trap. But if there was a chance Pam could meet her old lovers and extract the truth of her world’s collapse, she wouldn’t be too concerned with the others’ safety.

            “Ohhhh,” whispered the Junker. “Arby’s Witch? She’s a real sweetheart once ya get to know ‘er.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “I’m more of a Southern Baptist muhself, but she’s as close to Jesus as we get ‘round these parts.” He brushed green bangs out of his eyes and looked up at Pam, smiling. “But if she paid ya a visit, yer probably someone real special.”

            She frowned, puzzled by Scum’s friendly demeanor. “I not understand why you help us, green boy. You earn nothing by showing us path to castle.” It was true. This man risked mutilation by traveling alongside her. Yet she sensed no ulterior motive.

            “Well that’s easy.” The garish smile grew wider. “Y’all seem like fun.” The Junker giggled quietly to himself. “Anyone who can handle scrapes like you would be a real good time.”

            The bonfire grew hotter. “This is not game, little man,” Pam snarled in a low, clear voice. “There is nothing left but my goal. Anyone getting in way will die.”

            The Junker chuckled again and scooped a handful of pizza into his mouth, then made an earnest attempt to smoke and chew at the same time. “Wif all due respect ma’am, why so serious? Every day we see people bite it on these cheesy slopes, but there ain’t no use complainin’. Just gotta keep on truckin’, livin’ the good life, ya know?”

            Pam ignored him. A simpleton with a grody mustache couldn’t understand her motives. She stood to wake G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., nudging the cat’s ribs with her boots. He rubbed his whiskers and withdrew his tail from Christopher’s toes, and slowly trudged over to the Junker’s side. While Pam pretended to sleep, she did her best to shut out their conversation about the Denver Broncos.

 

***

 

            They rose the next morning and hiked a short distance to the pizza palace. The trek was uneventful, but after some alone time Pam was better able to tolerate Chris’s transparent attempts to flirt with G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. while also nodding politely along as the Junker read them his favorite Bible verses. Chris had the body and maturity of an adult human, but his lack of nuance while trying to make the khajiit laugh made Pam roll her eyes. Although to the clone’s credit, Pam nearly choked when he asked the Junker if he liked Ezekiel 23:20.

            The four now stood in front of a towering vaulted doorway. The enormous castle loomed over the four, with sunlight casting a long foreshadow over the group. The Junker dug through a layer of cheese to find a rusted handle and banged it against grease-soaked wood. The thud echoed in an unseen hallway. Nightmarish birds took flight from the rafters.

            “Guess no one’s home,” stated Scum. Pam glanced at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and Chris, then pointed at the door. They took positions on either side while Pam hefted her axe in both hands. Her heart began to pound. The air seemed full of tense energy, and Pam would not let her opportunity to make a dramatic entrance go to waste. She nodded and her companions heaved the door open. She walked steadily into the darkness without waiting to see if they’d follow.

            Before her laid an ornate ballroom with no sign of the pizza-blasted accents which had ravaged the outside world. An arched ceiling was supported by thick marble columns, each inlaid with gold trim spelling words Pam could not comprehend. The floor was shining and untouched, as if the castle had been preserved since its construction. At its center a design had been carved into the floor: a dog with three heads, each chomping a slice of pizza. A stained-glass window depicting a burning candle fixed at the opposite end of the room was the only source of sunlight, and its rays fell in the middle of the dance floor. There floated a woman in a purple robe, her thin arms outstretched, a pole tied to white flag grasped by her knotted hands.

            Pam strode quickly toward the Arby’s Witch and seized the flag with one fluid motion. “At least you saved me trouble of walking to the spire. Now what?” She’d wasted enough time listening to this prophetess’ mumblings and wanted to leave. Her initial hope for bloodshed had soured into uncertainty.

            Though the witch’s face was mostly obscured, Pam could see her mouth twist into a sad smile. “Now you face your past. Good luck, child.” Then she faded away without a sound. Pam was alone for a moment before Scum, Chris, and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. came running after her. The whole conversation had taken less than a minute, but the others were breathing as though they’d been running for hours.

            “Pam,” gasped G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D, “whatever you came here for, please find it quickly.” The fear in his voice was palpable.

            Pam looked down at the flag. “I found it. But…I don’t know what is next.”

            The castle doors slammed shut with an earsplitting crack. The Pebble yelped, the Junker gulped. The four stood back to back in the circle of light with Pam facing the entrance, axe and flag held akimbo.

            “What’s next my dear wife?” A smooth voice emanated from behind a column. A tall, balding man in a white t-shirt stepped from behind the structure, one hand resting on his hip. “What’s next is up to you.”  


	9. Disunion X Reunion

            Pam watched Trash Hulk lazily stroll to the front wall of the ballroom. His confidence fed her fury. He apparently knew they’d been caught off guard, and now he was arrogant enough to show Pam his back. She used the ground spike at the flag’s base to plant it in the center of the room, then took her axe in both hands. Her prey seemed unconcerned, and instead of preparing for a fight he crossed his arms and callously studied the window.

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hurried to her side. “Pam, we can leave immediately,” he whispered. His claw grasped the wooden flagpole as he said, “This is all I need to jump to the next world. Let’s go.” The urgency in his voice was uncomfortably sincere. She looked into his optical sensors. Despite his effort remain emotionless, she detected concern that did not seem to be for himself.

            “That’s right darling, keep running,” murmured Trash Hulk, still facing away. “Look how well it’s worked for you.” Pam would have broken into a charge had G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. not gingerly placed his other hand on her shoulder.

“Pam, please.” This time, a quiver in the robot’s voice. “You don’t have to do this now.”

She shrugged his hands off, causing him to stumble back toward Christopher and Junker. She didn’t want their worry. With a rapid motion Pam leapt at her ex-husband, swinging the axe to cleave him in twain. Right before the blade made contact, she sensed an unnatural energy. It felt like the same aura that unnerved her in Skyrim. _This not Hulk’s doing. Fuck._

Now he had turned to look at her, preventing his demise by grabbing the axe right at its shoulder, which a recent Google taught me is what you call the part of an axe right below its head. Pam could properly see his features. The mustache, the balding hairline with sideburns that’d shame a Civil War general, the weathered scars dividing his face into three unequal fractions- it was unmistakably him. Yet behind his hazy blue eyes stirred new purpose, an external hunger like that of a lioness who chases a deer through the forest and over rivers, herding it toward its pride. Hulk had never been half as strong as Pam before his death. Only one person could have so fundamentally altered this man.

“Why Todd send you here?” she snarled.

He chuckled. “What makes you think I didn’t follow of my own free will?” Pam wrenched the axe from his grasp and took another swing. He sidestepped it with uncharacteristic deftness, then grabbed her arm. Hard. A searing pain shot through the limb and her vision flashed green. “I wanted to see my wife again.” She brought her boot down on his foot with force enough to flatten a car, giving her time to pull away to the other side of the ballroom.

Recognizing the not-great situation going down, Chris and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. charged Trash Hulk simultaneously. The Pebble’s long arms allowed him to graze their target’s chest, but his brittle bones shattered on contact. Hulk pulled the Pebble above his head to shield himself from the khajiit’s overhead pounce, leaving them both a crumpled pile next to the flag. The Junker just watched, mumbling Psalms to calm his nerves.

Pam’s breath came harsh and fast. She shouldn’t have been able to feel pain at all, yet the place where he grabbed her still burned. If the Creator had somehow altered him to override her coding, this fight could prove short and costly. “I thought husband was brave enough to accept death, not beg for life and betray me.”

He responded with a blindingly fast punch that she barely blocked with the axe, sending her sliding against the stone wall. She dropped the now-dented weapon and threw her own fist, hitting his jaw with a satisfying smack. He caught her next blow as she caught his. They pushed against each other, both unable to force their partner to yield. Hulk brought his bald forehead centimeters away from Pam’s furrowed brow. “Don’t you dare talk about betrayal to me,” he growled. There was a sickness in his words. “I know about the robot. And the radroach.” His body shook with each deliberate syllable. “Todd may have taken them, but I came to him willingly.” A green mist clouded Pam’s eyes once more. “Because you are mine.”

She felt a wave of nausea, followed by sorrow. The Hulk she knew was long gone, replaced by the Creator’s mad desire to reclaim her. Todd had turned Trash Hulk’s envy into a physical illness. His paranoid ideas infected his mind, polluted his thoughts. The disease, left untreated, stole away his tongue, then his body, then his integrity. She thought that by escaping from her old world she could forget her past. But that’s the thing about obsessive exes. Ex-boyfriends, ex-husbands, even ex-gods. Sometimes, they won’t let you leave the past. Sometimes you love them too much to see the warning signs, to see that all they want is to keep you in the past, to make sure any fragment of your future is a picture they can jam in their scrapbook.

Trash Hulk seized this moment of weakness. He shoved a knee into Pam’s stomach, causing her to double over. A subsequent kick skittered her across the floor into a marble pillar. Small, thin cracks raced up the column as fire coursed up her spine. She groaned as she pushed up from the floor and willed her legs to stop shaking. Neither Todd nor Hulk earned this pain from her. She would use it against them. She balled her hands into fists. The ground beneath her grew hot. Before Hulk’s smug grin had time to change he was hiding behind his forearms while Pam converted anger into energy, smashing limbs with knuckles, scorching flesh with every blow. She became a furnace fueled by hatred for those who had robbed her of the chance to start over. Any average demigod or unholy spirit should have been reduced to ashy memory.

Sadly Trash Hulk, while neither sacred nor profane, had been chosen specifically to test Pam. Each fiery punch weakened in its intensity. For the first time in ages, she felt tired. When her arms no longer obeyed, she stepped back from the man she’d forced to a kneeling position. Somehow he remained, his face bearing a look of grim resolve. He lifted his battered body to stand before her. He pointed a finger at the stained glass window. The light became distorted, reds and yellows darkening into blues and greens. Dust whipped up in a whirlwind that consumed the whole chamber. The glass seemed to ripple like the surface of a lake disturbed by a particularly large stone. It bathed the five monsters in emerald light, which would have been kind of nice under difference circumstances.

“I’m taking you through there,” Trash Hulk stated, his voice steady after the previous outburst. “We’re going home together Pam. You don’t belong here.” He walked toward her with measured steps. She backed away but felt her strength failing. Hulk’s poisoned words sapped her energy. They were true. Hearing the truth often sucks, and in this case it literally sucked Pam’s inherent power into the portal. _Unacceptable._

“You can’t decide where I go” she spat. “Or where I belong.”

He scoffed, the syllable thick with condescension. “Who does? You clearly don’t.” Hulk jerked his thumb toward the heap of G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and Chris. “When you make your own choices you end up with garbage like them. Believe me, I know about trash.” He was now mere feet away. His voice grew louder as he reflected on their old life. “It’s going to be just like before. We’ll be happy again.”

“Do not lecture about happiness. You not know about Pam’s happiness.”

He stopped. “I’ve changed.” His voice wavered.

“Don’t be stupid.” Pam’s vision blurred. Soon all her energy would be gone, stolen by cheat codes meant to contain her. “No one ever changes.” She fell on her hands, fighting to stay conscious. She felt like an empty Capri Sun, crinkled and disposable. Hulk offered her his right hand. He smiled. For a moment, she thought there might be kindness behind his eyes. They’d had good memories, right? Shopping for their house in a nice little cul-de-sac. Wallpapering the room where their newborn son would sleep. He got so frustrated with the new laundry machine; it was adorable.

That was all in the past. Before the war, before the ghosts, before the flood that blotted out all of space and time. Nothing behind the eyes now but emerald green coded by a vengeful, possessive god. She was not going back.

With as much strength as she could muster Pam pushed herself up into his chest, hoping to crack his sternum with her skull. They both stumbled back to the center. Hulk’s right hand was still reaching, but now with intent to crush her limbs. She grasped the only weapon within reach, the Witch’s flag, still standing in the middle of their wild dance. She wrenched it from the floor and stabbed the tail spike just below his thumb, shearing through his wrist bones and leaving the hand hanging by a scant number of ulnar ligaments. He howled.

The scream was enough to shake G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. from his stupor. Optics came back online, revealing a severely weakened Pam and completely unresponsive Pebble. Ambulatory system scan reported ten percent functionality. _Not quite enough to be useful_. He looked over at Chris again. The clone’s face was scrunched into a pained grimace, respirations came at irregular intervals. Trash Hulk had only hit them once, but such was his strength that he’d left Chris in a serious state. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had to say something.

“Pam. Please.” She almost didn’t hear the khajiit’s whisper. “Can we go?”

She used the flag as a crutch, turned away from the still-wailing Hulk, and limped over to the fallen cat. She didn’t realize how badly he’d been hurt. Her stomach tightened. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. managed to lift a paw to her knee. She took it in her own shaky hand.

“Yeah.”

Then they heard the snapping of bone and a yelp. Pam felt warm blood splatter her dress, but felt no injury. She looked over her shoulder to see Junker’s silhouette impaled by five long, green, spectral fingers. Trash Hulk apparently had torn the rest of his hand off and used Pam’s stolen energy to create a new one from pure energy. He had attempted to seize Pam once more, but-

“Green boy…you…save me?”

The yokel chortled feebly. “Well ma’am, the good book says there ain’t no greater love than to lay down one’s life fer a friend. So, here I am!” Blood poured from his mouth. He coughed a little.

“Keep on truckin’ Pam.”

Trash Hulk growled and slid the body off his magic fingers. The trio vanished before Junker hit the ground.


	10. Is this the real life?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. chats up the locals. Pam and Chris take a nap.

_“Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,_  
_Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore_  
_Which all the woe of the universe insacks._  
_Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many_  
_New toils and sufferings as I beheld?_  
_And why doth our transgression waste us so?”_

You know when you’re sick and everything feels terrible? Like, you move slower and you feel weak, and you just want to sleep but can’t? That’s how Pam felt. There were gaps where should couldn’t tell her dreams from facts, but these days the two often mixed. She remembered G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. throwing them into a particularly jarring world jump. She remembered a sky flashing green and red with a cruel wind howling around her. She remembered the Corridor, two badly wounded men helping her limp through a white doorway. She remembered fire and blood and a darkness that blotted out time.

***

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. removed the back of his hand from Pam’s forehead. Her fever was finally breaking. It was nearing the end of their second day in this new world, and he’d feared being trapped for weeks. However, Pam healed much faster than any organism in Skyrim. If I’ve got 9 lives, she surely has 90. The most pressing issue was the matter of their other companion. The cat strode to another bed where Christopher slept fitfully. While their hosts had been very kind in providing any supplies G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. needed, Chris wasn’t responding to treatment. Though the fight with Trash Hulk ended up being short, it exposed the reality of The Pebble’s strength. He’d cracked a shoulder blade and suffered trauma to the skull that might prove more serious in time. In his own world, he had difficulty competing with human wrestlers. In a multiverse full of monsters and reality-altering evil henchmen, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. feared he wouldn’t last long in any violent confrontation. He softly placed his paw against Chris’ neck. His pulse was thready but consistent. _Better than yesterday._ They’d have to be satisfied with gradual improvement. The Pebble unconsciously nuzzled into G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s fur and he let his paw linger a moment more before heading downstairs.

  
He’d been lucky. When they crossed the Corridor into the next plane, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s main worry was finding shelter. Inexplicably, shelter found them in the form of the dimension’s ruler. His official function was mayor of second life although he referred to himself as Boy Mayor. Allegedly this stout child built the entire universe called “Second Life.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had trouble believing a contorted copy of Augustus Gloop could shape a world, but cyber-beggars can’t be choosers. At all hours the self-appointed mayor was accompanied by a man named Totinos, a lanky, elastic caricature of humanity who smelled like fresh pizza and wore leggings to match. Not that G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was judging or anything.

  
The khajiit found the pair hanging out in the backyard pool. Boy Mayor hovered facedown above the slide like a penguin that suddenly became untethered from gravity and was loving every minute. Totinos was content to ride a large cat through the flower garden. Though he winced at a fellow feline being used in so undignified a matter, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. sauntered over to Totinos. “Say, does he always just float like that?”

  
“Not usually,” he responded in a mellow and zesty tone. “But, you know. Campaigning’s really stressful.” They watched silently as the mayor zipped down the slide and plunged into the pool’s depths. His unusually round bottom made him quite buoyant, and the little politician resurfaced with ease.

  
“Campaigning, you say?”

  
“Oh yeah, we’ve really been hitting it hard the past few weeks,” Totinos explained. “Duran Duran’s been picking up in the polls, so we had to get boots-on-the-ground in Southern Country. The Mayor’s base of monsters is rock-solid, but he’s been taking a lot of flak from the surprising amount of perverts who want to keep the sex clubs running.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. nodded and tried very hard to look interested in a breakdown of the platform, but was a bit worried these people might be absolutely fucking mad. He was spared an argument about over dog suffrage by the Boy Mayor, still trying to towel off a sopping wet tuxedo.

  
“G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., good morning!” chimed the exuberant mayor. His voice sounded like a Muppet with its nose pushed inside its face, possibly in a slow, violent fashion. Nonetheless, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. felt somewhat comforted by this man-child. “How are your friends feeling today? I can whip up some noodles and tea if they’re in the mood?” The questions’ sincerity forced the khajiit to grin.

  
“They still need a lot of rest. I expect Pam will be up tomorrow morning, but I’m not sure about Christopher,” he confessed, trying not to let fear darken his face. He stiffened his upper lip and changed the topic. “At any rate, can’t say what a pleasure it is to stay at the Mayor’s residence. Truly a magnificent home.”

  
“Oh no, we’re just renting,” the Mayor said cheerfully. “Jim and Cassie are off to Horse Island for the week, so we swooped in. Sort of an AirBnB thing.” He offered G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. a pool noodle. “Want to take a dip? I just find a cool swim so refreshing.”

  
“No thanks, I’m a cat.”

  
The Mayor had already waddled over to Totinos. “Daaaarling?” he shouted at unnecessary volume, “Put some pepperoni rolls in the microwave won’t you?”

  
Totinos knelt down, cupped the politician’s face and nuzzled a bulbous nose against his head. “Of course. Flavor blasted?”

  
“Always.”

  
The tall chef stalked off toward the kitchen. The Mayor sighed loudly before shuffling back to G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D., who now sat in a poolside chair. “Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave, am I right?”

  
The robot just sort of stared at the sunlight at the bottom of the pool, hoping he would not be pressed about Totinos’ fine arse. The Mayor continued beaming until G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. made another conversation change.

“With all due respect Mr. Mayor, how come you have to run for reelection? Aren’t you a god of some sort? Yesterday you claimed to have made all of Second Life.”

As soon as he said “reelection” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. immediately regretted it. The Mayor’s smile continued, but his boyish energy evaporated. Wrinkles and frown lines G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hadn’t previously noticed seemed to wear into his face, as if watching a stream erode a proud mountain in seconds, quickly etching cracks and ledges into its stone surface leaving it weathered and beaten but no less majestic.

  
He uttered a small chuckle. “Ha, you’re a sharp one. That’s a fair question, and in my defense, I wasn’t lying.”

He pulled up a pool chair and turned it around, facing G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and resting crossed arms on the chair’s back. “I made Second Life a long time ago. It was really quite fun. I built servers and cities and little zones for everyone with their own individual desires could meet other friends. A sort of escape from the mundanity of the worlds they knew before.” He grinned mischievously. “I even decreed that everyone could fly! Why not?” The whimsy in his voice was heartbreakingly genuine. “But uh…things changed. Maybe it was my fault.” He frowned into the distance, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s presence forgotten. “Maybe it was what was happening in their first lives that drove them to change. They just… weren’t much fun anymore.” His eyes glazed over. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had no desire to disturb the mayor, so the two sat in uncomfortable silence which was mercifully broken by Totinos’ returning with pizza rolls. The chef could tell the conversation had shifted to politics, and tried to lighten the mood by feeding his partner several handfuls of rolls. The gesture was appreciated by all, but as the day wore on, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that accompanies reminding a good friend about encroaching deadlines.

***

She ran for a long time. She knew she had to keep running or something would find and catch her, so she followed this gravel path drenched in blood. When Pam finally ran out of breath, she collapsed and turned to face her pursuant. She shakily stood to face her enemy, which drew ever closer until Pam could make out the shape of an enormous creature, a snake with nine heads. She charged at the monster, crushing four snarling maws before the other five overtook her. Four remaining heads grappled her limbs while the fifth gazed at her with pity. As the fifth lurched ahead to bite, the head surging to bite was her own.

Pam woke with a start. Her sheets were drenched with sweat, a function she didn’t remember having. The bed was unfamiliar. She racked her brains for an explanation. It seemed likely G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. pulled them out before they all died. She clenched her fist. _Trash Hulk can go fuck self._ Her ex sold himself out to Todd in exchange for power never before seen in her universe. Unacceptable. There must be a way to gather the powers of other worlds. Todd might have flushed her out of hiding, but no longer. She would find the strongest warriors of whatever plane they might discover and return when she knew she was ready. Pam gathered her energy and remembered her old strength. _I am still Pam._

  
Christopher coughed loudly in the next bed, shaking Pam from her monologing. She pulled off her blanket and walked over. He looked a lot worse than she’d ever seen before. Pam put the back of her hand to the wrestler’s forehead. Feverish. Within moments Chris ceased shivering and opened his eyes.

  
“P-Pam?”

  
“Yes muscle-boy, is me. Let’s go find cat.”

  
Chris smiled. “Hell yeah.”


	11. A Day of Fun

            Happy reunions notwithstanding, the team decided spending a few days in Second Life might be the best move. While Pam’s healing had pushed Christopher a long way toward recovery, he still needed rest. Whatever strange system of tubes and borrowed cells constituted the clone’s body wasn’t so efficient as to immediately prepare him for another inter-universe jump. _And honestly_ , G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. thought, _it was nice to be on holiday_. The stress of dimensional travel certainly strained his processor, not to mention the stress brought by assailants from Pam’s past.

            Totinos turned out to be thrilled when G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. somewhat sheepishly asked if they could stay a few days. The pizza-man confided that The Mayor was more concerned about the election than he’d let on. So much so that his campaign manager thought it best if they take a detour to an old amusement park owned by the Mayor’s grandfather, abandoned after a series of grisly murders. The khajiit neglected to mention the bit about murders when proposing the idea to Pam and Chris. Among various attractions Totinos had listed was a Tunnel of Love, and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. didn’t think a potential serial killer would facilitate a romantic atmosphere. _Not that I’ll be trying to visit the Tunnel_ , he corrected himself. _I dunno, it’d just be like a fun thing to see. Ironically._

***

 

            If the group hadn’t already suspected the suggestion of spectral presence or possibility at the park, the actual appearance ought to have kept them on their toes. The park was silent as a graveyard; the five of them were the only living beings in sight. Also, apparently, it had been built in the middle of the goddamn ocean, so that seemed pretty weird. Misgivings aside, it did seem like a cool park. The attractions included an enormous water slide, roller coasters and rides that presumably laid unused for years, and a variety of concession stands that miraculously still dispensed fresh goods despite having been abandoned by their operators.

Pam ran a critical eye over the machines, wondering about the rusted giants’ likelihood of killing her. The Mayor and Chris ran ahead toward the funnel cake stand, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and Totinos jogging behind them. They all cracked up at the absurdity of this whole escapade. All except Pam.

This was…different. Pam long ago forgot proper behavior expected of group of friends spending a day together. She wanted to join in the laughing. As the morning progressed she even attempted a joke or two, which surprised literally everyone. Perhaps she was still fixated on the dream about the hydra. Or maybe she felt this was a waste of time, seeing as she could not get stronger while dodging lemonade-flavored vomit on the Scrambler. It was just a weird emotion, the knowledge that everyone seemed to know what to say and what to do. There was no enemy to crush, no task to which she could set her mind. The only strengths she had were no use when convincing people to like her. Pam trailed behind her friends, forcing her scarred face into a smile and hoping she didn’t draw attention.

Despite her efforts, the Mayor suggested they check out the Ferris wheel while the others hit up the go-karts. “Not to be rude,” he said with an air of caution, “but it seems like you might have a significant advantage over the rest of us.” Pam’s first reflex was indignation, but remembered that time she dropped a vertibird on the Smith’s cookout and yielded the argument. The Mayor shouted their departure over the roar of engines. The others were too busy talking shit to notice.

 

Pam felt distinctly on edge as they walked through the silent remains of the sprawling estate. The clack-thud of their shoes against wood and concrete were the only sound outside of go-karts revving. She wanted to say something to break the quiet. “This park good.”

The Mayor chortled. “I’m glad you think so! It’s been too long since I last visited. Ever since Grandpappy passed, it’s been sort of a bittersweet place.”

“How you have grandfather and also build this dimension?”

“Never mind that now,” he said curtly. They reached the ancient wheel. He opened the gate for her to enter first. They hopped into a creaky red basket and sat facing each other. “I’d rather talk about you.”

She’d figured as much, but it was strange for someone to directly state their interest in her. “What you want to talk about?” Her anxiety climbed several notches as the wheel began its slow rotation.

“Anything!” the Mayor exclaimed. His face, disproportioned though it was, bore an evident expression of curiosity. “We don’t often get visitors to Second Life, and you come traipsing in with a British cat and a professional wrestler!” He offered her a tub of popcorn that appeared from thin air. She politely declined and he stuffed his mouth. “What’s brought you all this way?”

She answered without hesitation. “I’m looking for someone. I will be strong, and then I kill him.” She puffed her chest and her voice was proud. Of this most important goal she was absolutely certain.

The Mayor looked back, seemingly concerned. “The person who beat up you and your gang of friends?”

She shook her head. “He is tiny bump on path to target. Strong, but I will be stronger.” She bristled at his doubtful gaze. “What?”

“I just-” he started, then placed a buttery hand on his chin, thinking. At this point they’d reached the top of their circle. “Let me say it a different way. How did you get here?”

Pam didn’t understand the purpose of the question. “The cat does teleportation. What of it?”

            The Mayor shrugged. “I just thought you were the one with all the superpowers.”

            “I’m good at death.”

            The politician chuckled nervously. “Undoubtedly. So what about Christopher?”

            A good question. _Why is wrestle-boy here?_ She reached into obscure memories of the past few days. She remembered whooping up on him during the fight at the Cell. The urgency to escape. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hugging a shaking Pebble. “He’s here because cat likes him.”

            For a second the Mayor looked startled. “G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. never said they were together.”

            Pam rolled her eyes. “They’re not. Yet. But look.” They again reached the wheel’s zenith. From their vantage point they could see karts zipping around, two karts particularly close. Their laughter was unmistakable. “The only reason they aren’t already boning is cuz of spiny cat dong.”

Color drained from the bureaucratic boy but he pressed on with heroic effort. “Um, be that as it may, what I’m really curious about is what happens when you complete your quest.”

She had no reaction. She sat still, the breeze between them transparent as her thoughts. After a long moment she responded, “No need to look ahead this far. I need training.”

The Mayor smiled, reached across the bucket, and squeezed her knee. Which proved difficult, as he possessed short arms and stubby fingers. “You will need to work hard, but I think you’ll have no problem getting what you’re after. I’ve met a lot of people in my career, but none like you.” He looked her in the eyes and nodded vigorously. “The thing is, you’re still gonna have a long time to figure out what to do once you’re done with this mission.” He gestured down the karts below. The trio appeared to be bored with go-karts and were headed towards the Ferris wheel. “These two fellows, whether you think so or not, they didn’t travel all this way because of some heroic cause or to get a sightseeing trip.”

She stiffened, unsure what to say.

“Pam, I think those boys really care about you,” he continued. “They don’t care if you’re awkward or angry or confused. And those sort of people, ride-or-die type fools, they’re gonna love you no matter what.” His eager smile became serious. The Mayor’s tone shifted to that of a person discussing their last will. “So I want you to promise me two things: One, trust yourself and your friends.”

She nodded.

“Two, when you finish this fight, bring back all the friends you meet on your journey, and we’ll have the most baller-ass rager Second Life has ever seen, got it?” He couldn’t keep the straight face, yet he kept his eyes locked with hers.

Pam had to crack a smile. She grabbed his small executive hand in her own and squeezed hard. “Okay Mr. Mayor man. We come back for party. But it must knock socks off, or else I burn your world to ground.” They both laughed hard, the serious atmosphere evaporating as the wheel slowed to let them off.

 

***

 

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D and the others reached the Ferris wheel to see Boy Mayor and Pam snorting at some joke they had made. “For real though,” Pam said as she clapped the Mayor on the back. Whatever their chat entailed, the squat politician had a knack for cheering people up. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had been somewhat worried about his friend. She was usually quiet when conversation was unnecessary, but today he felt some concerning vibes. That anxious feeling wasn’t entirely gone, but it seemed like the talk had helped. He smiled to himself, then noticed Chris pretending to not steal glances at him while they tramped along the forsaken walkways. Something in his core circuitry flared, and he peeked back.

All five of them together now, Totinos proposed they go check out the carnival games, demanding the Mayor win him an enormous stuffed bear. The poor politician struggled to throw various rings and balls onto hooks and cups while Pam and Chris respectively booed and cheered. Out of the corner of his orbital cameras the khajiit saw Totinos beckon him over. He hung back out of earshot and whispered, “What’s up?”

Totinos bent low on his haunches and put his moustache up to G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s ear. “So, uh, what’s the deal with you and Chris?”

WD-40 surged into his face. “Th-there’s no deal. We just get along well.” There was a stereotype about khajiits back in Skyrim, that they were deceitful, tricky creatures. No one trusted to get a fair deal out of them, always expecting to be cheated or backstabbed. If there was any evidence to support the alternative, it was G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D’s poker face.

Totinos produced a knowing look, one usually reserved for extended conversations about the best recipes for pizza sauce. “My boy, we took you into our home battered and bleeding. You live a dangerous life, or at the very least you live in a moment in time where your safety must be placed at a premium.” He pointed toward the long-fingered wrestler who was now instructing the Mayor on ring-tossing techniques while Pam surreptitiously levitated them into scoring position. “Similarly, the time you have with your heart’s deepest desires is not eternal.”

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t accustomed to Italian chefs giving tips on his love life. “Totinos… I’m sort of scared.”

The man seized him by the shoulders and lifted his mechanical body into the air. “Good! Fear and arousal are based in the same parts of ‘ze brain!”

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was not enjoying this pep talk.

Totinos lowered him back to earth. “I just get so excited. There’s no better feeling in the world.” He squinted pointedly at the techno-feline. “And you’ve got a shot at it.” He put his hand in the small of G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s back and ushered him back to the group. In a conspiratorial, whispered tone, Totinos said, “It’s now or never my boy. Wait for the signal.”

_What the actual fuck?_

Upon their return the Mayor, sweaty and breathing rapidly, presented Totinos with an gigantic stuffed animal. The chef scooped up the toy in one arm and the Mayor in the other and squeezed them both to his chest. Chris watched with admiration and pride. Pam’s disgust at the public display was coming close to physical manifestation. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. felt his thoracic processor accelerate. _What the bloody hell is this signal supposed to be?_

Just like that, the Second Lifers were disappeared. In a blur of motion surprising everyone, Totinos and Boy Mayor yelled something about the water slide and sped off, dragging a bewildered Pam behind. _Oh._

He and Chris were painfully alone now. They sort of looked at each other and laughed.

“Huh, well I guess we’d better catch up” Chris muttered. He looked at the ground, then glanced back up at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.

_Say something you absolute tosser._ “Yeah I suppose so.” _Real smooth_. Together they slowly trod in the same direction. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. suppressed a sigh. _Maybe next time._

A voice like a truck through a window shattered his thoughts. _G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.! Don’t fuck up._ He looked up and from in the distance he could see Pam shooting infrared daggers into his face. _I’ll be damned._

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. reached out a shaky paw and took Chrisopher’s hand. The Pebble stared at him, eyes wide. “Actually, do you wanna do something else?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scrambled to get this done before the end of Coming Out Day. Also shows just how dependent I am on external approval.


	12. Tunnel of Love

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. finished stuffing his drawstring bag with biscuits. Both were a farewell present from the Boy Mayor, though G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. doubted whether or not it’d survive the world jump. _It’s the thought that counts, I suppose._ He whistled the song of dawn to himself and headed downstairs. Pam and Chris were already waiting, seated on the patio making small talk with their hosts. He grimaced when he noticed Chris holding a huge Ziploc full of pizza rolls. The past few days had proven a much-needed break, but the only thing they’d eaten were those flavor-blasted zest bites. Which had subsequently flavor-blasted his entire butt.

            Not pausing to consider why a robot would be built with a functioning GI tract, he stepped out and greeted everyone. Pam stood on his appearance, grabbing her own rucksack and staring at the khajiit intently. “Well, it really is a shame you can’t stay longer,” the Mayor said cheerily. “But you’re free to come back any time! Especially when we have my electoral victory party,” he added with the faintest hint of cockiness.

            Totinos slid behind his partner and gently rubbed his shoulders. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear. Still a lot of work to do.”

            The Boy Mayor grinned. “Of course hon, but voters loooove confidence.” He broke into a high-pitched chuckle that the party uncomfortably joined.

They said their final goodbyes. Totinos gave G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. a shoulder squeeze and a knowing look which flushed G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s face all the way down to his synthetic toe beans. _Did he see?_  The Mayor multiplied his embarrassment by winking in literally the most inconspicuous manner possible. _Yup, time to go._ He and Chris walked over toward the swimming pool. They turned back to see Pam on one knee, apparently pulling the squat Mayor into a stiff but lengthy embrace. Chris uttered a small sound of surprise. Then Pam joined them. The trio joined hands, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. focused his processors, and they vanished from Second Life.

 

***

 

            Sometimes the shift was instantaneous. In times of heightened emotion or other mental anxiety in the travelers, the jump was perceived more slowly, an accidental mercy to prevent excessive strain on the mind. Now G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hardly noticed the flashes of color around them; how the magic time tube lazily sloped, twisted, and arced without urgency; how this strange power flinging them across realities did not sprint, but sailed. His thoughts lived only in the theme park where yesterday might as well have been another universe.

           

            He and Chris sort of half-jogged to the entrance of a faux-marble structure. Emblazoned at the top of the plastic Parthenon were the words “Tunnel of Love.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s power supply unit sent electricity tingling through every jittering muscle. _Are we really doing this? Am I?_ “So I, uh- I thought this would be kind of funny.” Though a transparent lie, it was pretty funny. The combination of Greco-Roman architecture paired with giant swan boats circling a lazy river was fairly ridiculous.

            “It’s funny you suggested it,” Chris retorted. “It’s got birds and water, so you’re probably 50/50 on it?” Bad cat jokes aside, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. wasn’t fooled by his cool demeanor. The Pebble’s face was bright red, the tinge creeping all the way up into his bald scalp. They hadn’t stopped holding hands since G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. led them here.

            They both hopped up into a large swan. A switch flipped somewhere and their craft lurched forward. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. sat frozen, staring at cheesy depictions of Cupid and thousands of different heart drawings. He couldn’t move. Or think. He had to say something. _Ahhhhhhhhh._ “Feeling better?” _Really?_ “I mean, like, have you recovered from the fight, do you think?”

            Chris glanced sideways at him. “Yeah, why? Was my go-karting not up to your standards?” he teased.

            “No you were good, it’s just-.” G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. stopped. “I guess I’m just worried about you.” Chris cocked his head. “I just… When I met your dad back in your world, he asked me to take care of you. And…” he sighed. _This is not what I intended._ “I feel like I wasn’t there for you. I-.” His throat caught. _Bloody hell I’m a goddamn robot how is this even happening._ “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

            There was a painful silence. Chris only squeezed G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s paw. “G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D… do you know what the worst thing about pain is?”

            “Um…it...hurts?”

            “No, dummy.” Chris smiled. The muscles in his neck relaxed. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. felt so confused. “It’s like, no one else feels how bad it hurts. It’s just you.” The wrestler gazed off into the middle distance. “No matter how you describe it, or no matter how much you talk about it, no one else really understands.” He looked G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. in the eyes. “Unless someone else experiences that pain too.” His long fingers ran up and down the khajiit’s fur. “You were right there beside me the whole time. I’d rather be in pain together.”

            G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. felt. It was like his body weighed five times more, but everything was numb and nothing else mattered but this moment, these few seconds before their dumb ride came to an end. He tried desperately to burn this image into his memory, Chris’ eyes and voice, the slow rocking of the boat, feeling like he was made of lightning. He coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Pam was right about you.”

            Chris raised an eyebrow. “Um, about what?”  
            The robot grinned. “You _are_ full of sanctimonious bullshit.” He cackled over Chris telling him to fuck off. But the wrestler also beamed. A previously undetected tension began to dissipate.

            The pair disembarked the swan. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. suggested they try to find the others. They no longer held hands, but G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. didn’t dwell on it. He pored over the events of the last three minutes, stunned by the novelty and delight of it all.

            “Hey.”

            Before the cat responded, Chris placed his hand behind his back and pressed his lips to the fur of G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s neck. His vision went white from the electrical energy surging through his circuits. The wrestler laughed and ran ahead. “Hurry up, I know how much you love water slides!” The words were meaningless and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. didn’t care. He wished that moment would have been the end of his story.

 

***

            “Hey!” He was startled out of the reverie. An impatient Pam slapped his face. “Snap out of it furball. We’re here.”


End file.
